deepundergroundpoetry.com

He lives no more.

Sometimes I feel so very lost,
with no more lions to kill.
My soul in winter seasonís frost,
the cold is all too real.

A heart stained with the blood Iíve spilled,
filled with secrets unrevealed.
So many nights I thought to pray,
but never found the words to say.

A measure of guilt remains my curse,
until sweet death comes calling.
I see myself absent of worth,
upon my knees Iím crawling.

Each day Iím left to contemplate,
the tragedy by twist of fate,
that faced a boy into a war,
and left a man that lives no more.



LtDansLegs
Written by LtDansLegs (Jay.)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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